AN: Thanks for all the reviews! I love you all. I've decided to keep this story fluffy, due to overwhelming demand, BUT I have created '12,' which is extremely angsty and deliciously dark. I hope. As for this one: unfortunately, I tend to lose interest in stories once I've gotten the main characters together. I'm going to try to keep this one going for awhile, but I just don't know. It may wrap itself up here pretty soon despite my best efforts. So if it does, just remember how much I've appreciated everyone's support and helpful comments these past weeks! This chapter is short, fluffy, and completely pointless. I LOVED writing it ;)
Of course Chappelle called the next morning. Of course. The ringing of her bedside cordless yanked Michelle out of a deep sleep—the best she'd had in a long time. She glanced at the clock radio as she grabbed the phone and pushed the button to answer it. 6:30 am. It could only be work; no one else would call her so early.
"Hello," she said softly, trying not to wake Tony as she eased herself out of bed.
"Michelle?" Ryan Chappelle's voice came sharply from the speaker, "This is Ryan Chappelle. I tried to call your cell phone but you didn't answer."
"I, uh— oh!" Michelle gasped softly as Tony's arm snaked around her waist, yanking her back up against him. She cleared her throat and tried to stop his hands from roaming north to her breasts. "I must have left it on silent. What do you need, Mr. Chappelle?"
"I'm sorry to bother you at home, but we need you to come in early today. You're not scheduled until noon, but could you be here by eight?"
Yeah, you sound real sorry, she thought, stifling a giggle and an "oof" as Tony flipped her expertly around until she was lying on her back and he was grinning evilly down at her. He started nibbling at her jaw line. "Um, sure, I can come in early." Be quiet, she mouthed at the fiend on top of her, swatting at his hands. "Can I ask what this is—oh! about?" Tony had just bitten her neck in retaliation.
"Just a heap of paperwork the DOD sent over that has to be filled out today. I'm calling in everyone I can—" Michelle had her hand clamped over the receiver, trying to block out the sound of Tony kissing her passionately. "—but I haven't been able to get ahold of Tony yet. He didn't mention going out of town this weekend to you, did he?"
The urge to giggle hysterically and the urge to chuck the phone out the window and give her undivided attention to exploring the muscles of Tony's chest dueled in Michelle's brain, and she thought she might burst with the need to laugh. "Um…no…he, uh, he didn't say anything…to me…" She was really distracted now: Tony had redirected his attentions southward.
"Are you all right, Michelle?" Chappelle asked, sounding skeptical rather than concerned.
"I'm fine!" Michelle exclaimed, then added "…Great! Actually," as Tony hit a particularly pleasant nerve. "Um, I'll see you at 8. Bye!"
Then the phone did get thrown away.
An hour and fifteen minutes later they screeched to a halt in front of Tony's building. Michelle was out of the car on the sidewalk in a matter of seconds, Tony on her heels. "Land!" she cried dramatically.
"Oh, c'mon. You can't tell me you never talk on the phone while you're driving."
"Not while I'm going 90 down the freeway, I don't!"
The release of Tony's inner NASCAR-wannabe had been triggered by a combination of factors. First, the series of events he'd started while she was talking to Chappelle had been, well, brought to a conclusion. Then they'd showered together, Tony insisting that "it will save time." In reality it had delayed them another half hour. But she'd thrown on some clothes while grumbling about men having it easy, not having to worry about their hair or makeup or matching shoes, and they were out the door an hour after she hung up the phone. Unfortunately, they had to go by Tony's apartment because CTU had a strict "no jeans" policy and Tony didn't want anyone giving him knowing looks as he traipsed around in wrinkled casual wear all day. So they'd clambered hurriedly into his car and set off for his place, which was thankfully en route to CTU. She was already gripping the seat and trying not to worry about traffic jams, pedestrians, and angry, armed drivers when Tony'd picked up his cell phone to let Chappelle know he was coming in. Then her grip became positively white-knuckled.
"Ryan? Yeah, it's Tony Almeida. You called about a zillion times?"
Michelle heard Chappelle say something on the other end but she couldn't make out what. Tony saw her nervousness and, cradling the phone between his left shoulder and ear, he reached over to take her hand, continuing to drive with the other. She tensed even more. "Not helping," she whispered sharply.
"Yeah, well, I was busy," Tony continued. Oh, God, Michelle thought. Why couldn't he just say his phone was on silent, or dead, or in the car like a normal person? "Frankly, Ryan? It's none of your business. Suffice it to say it was something very important."
Well, she couldn't grudge herself a little grin at that.
They ended up making it to his apartment in record time, despite Michelle's private opinion that they were going to wind up in a hospital first. She raced upstairs behind Tony and tried to take in as much information as she could while he changed and she greeted Sarge. A plethora of previously undisclosed 'dirt' could, in Michelle's opinion, be found in a man's home when he wasn't expecting company, but all she gleaned from Tony's was rather mundane: he was reasonably neat, but not obsessively so; his taste in furniture ran to comfortable and lived-in rather than any discernable style; he knew how to cook, because his kitchen was stocked with a variety of complicated-looking instruments she couldn't begin to guess the purpose of. Her snooping was cut short by Tony's reemergence in well under three minutes, though, and she again mentally cursed whatever Power had decided that men should be lower-maintenance than women.
Ten minutes later they rolled into the CTU parking garage right on time. They were only a few steps from the vehicle when Michelle gasped and grabbed Tony's arm. "We can't walk in together!"
"Why not?" He gave her a puzzled look.
"Because…then everyone will know that we…well, that we…came in together. On a Monday morning."
Tony looked at her blankly for a second before understanding dawned. "Ohhh…I get it. You think they'll all start gossiping about us."
"I don't think, I know."
"Sweetheart, I really don't think anyone cares that much."
She gaped at him, even the warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach resulting from being called 'sweetheart' overshadowed by disbelief. "Are you serious?" He was. "Tony, everyone who works here knows that we…kissed last week. And everyone is watching every move we make now, trying to decide if and how far we've progressed since then. EVERYone!"
He still looked skeptical. "Why would anyone care?"
She crossed her arms and used her driest tone of voice. "Well, I imagine it's because every woman who works here wants to know whether or not you're off the market."
"Huh." He paused. "Ya think?" he asked, looking doubtful.
"Yes."
"Hmm. Well," he took her arm and escorted her towards the door, "in that case I think we should just go in together and let them all know that we're both off the market, so to speak."
Michelle stopped dead in her tracks. "Are we?" she asked, hating herself for the waver in her voice but unable to keep herself from finding out just how serious he was.
Tony looked deep into her eyes and gave one of his rare but gorgeous smiles. "I am if you are."
She smiled back shyly, breaking into a blush.
"Besides," he continued, "maybe now that annoying little programmer will stop stalking you. What's his name— Seashell? Seabiscuit?"
"Huh? Jason Seaman? Oh, he's just an acquaintance. Barely even a friend, to be honest."
He snorted. "Trust me. The guy looks at you the same way I always wanted to."
She blushed some more. "I just think we should…lay low for awhile, you know? I mean, if people pick up on it, fine, but there's no need to…send out a memo or anything. You know?"
"What," he mocked her, "I had that memo all drafted up. Now I can't use it?"
Dropping her arm from his, she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. They were approaching the door and, therefore, the security cameras. From now on, someone would always be watching. But Tony grabbed her around the waist and pulled her behind a convenient pillar, kissing her soundly just long enough to send her head firmly into the clouds and all thoughts of work somewhere far distant before turning her loose and heading back towards CTU.
Hannah was waiting by the door, looking suspiciously innocent. "Good morning, Agent Almeida. Morning, Michelle," she said, swiping their ID cards. "Have a good weekend?" she asked, smiling sweetly.
"It was fantastic," Tony said, looking her straight in the eye and smiling.
Michelle closed her eyes and groaned. The man was just incapable of lying. And damn if she didn't love him for it.